


Empty

by masterwords



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode: s01e10 Dagger of the Mind, Hurt James T. Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Taking place shortly after "Dagger of the Mind" - Jim has been having increasing headaches since returning from the penal colony on Tantalus, and it takes desperate measures to save him from the spreading pain of emptiness.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 11
Kudos: 161





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is short and could be fleshed out a lot more, but I kind of like it simple. Often after watching (and re-watching) episodes of TOS I find myself just wondering what the aftermath is of the trauma the team faces, so I plan to dive into many of them, this being the first. I'm new to Trek fics, and apologize if the mechanics of things are inaccurate. I've been a lover of the series my whole life, but I've never done such a deep dive before so I'm still learning. :)

“Captain, you don't look well,” Spock said, greeting Jim Kirk with a sideways glance that lasted just a little longer than usual. Jim smirked and nodded at his First Officer.

“Noted,” he replied sarcastically. He knew he looked like death, because he felt it as well, but he had a job to do and if he had to die while doing it he supposed there were worse fates. In any case, he wasn't planning on dying just yet, but he did feel terrible. 

“Captain, permission to speak freely?” Spock approached the Captain's chair and leaned in rather close to his friend, so close that Jim could feel the alien's breath on his cheek. He nodded, silently giving permission to Spock, though he didn't want or need to hear what the other man was going to say. 

“If you do not intend to be seen by the Doctor, which I presume you do not,” Spock began.

“Correct.”

“Then might I suggest you take the morning as sick leave in your quarters? I am more than capable of managing the bridge – we've got quite a way to travel before we make our next destination.” Spock watched his friend for any sign of acceptance, knowing that he wouldn't see it. Jim was the most stubborn human he'd ever met, and it was a very common trait for humans to have in general. Jim excelled at stubborn behavior. 

“You base this...suggestion...on what, exactly, Mister Spock? Are you calling me ugly?”

“Captain, I am referencing the glassy appearance of your eyes and the way you flinch when you look directly at something bright. I am referencing the way your skin both looks flushed and pale, the sweat on your forehead, the way your hands are trembling slightly...need I continue?”

“Mister Spock...” Jim began, taken aback by the Vulcan's keen observation of him. He wasn't wrong, of course, but it was frustrating. 

“Captain...” Spock interjected, cutting his friend off. “As your friend, I think it best if you excuse yourself and take to your quarters. I predict that, as the day wears on, your condition will deteriorate considerably and you'll be outed as unwell to more crew than just myself. As an act of...self preservation...please Jim.” 

Jim mulled this over in his mind. Always logical, Spock had a point, but Jim also knew that if he took the day in his quarters, the crew would grow suspicious and he'd be outed as unwell in any case. 

“And just how long do you imagine it'll be before Doctor McCoy is at my door?” Jim asked, cocking an eyebrow. He was putting up a fight, but he had to admit that a day of sick leave sounded like heaven. His head was throbbing and he could feel the stabbing pain behind his left eye. This was day 5 of this headache, each day increasing in severity, but today felt different. It had moved beyond just his head, he felt nauseous and dizzy on top it the rest. He shifted his gaze away from Spock, afraid for a moment that Spock would somehow see it in his eye – a slight twitch or a droop, some giveaway that he didn't know he had. 

“Irrelevant.” 

“I see.”

“Jim, if Doctor McCoy shows up at your door and you're not ill, then you've got nothing to hide. If he shows up and you are ill, I daresay that you'll be better for it. I fail to see the downside here.” 

“The downside, Spock, is that...” he began, but in one swift moment his vision went swirly and his head felt too heavy on his neck. He could feel himself losing his grip on the pain, losing the upper hand quickly. His heart raced and he felt desperate against the pain, twisting in his chair. 

“Jim?” Spock asked, leaning in closer and placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

“I haven't gone deaf, Spock,” Jim mumbled back, squeezing his eyes tight against the swirling of the bright lights. “Though it would be preferable currently.” 

Spock, looking as cool as could be, turned back toward the crew members behind him. Everyone on the bridge had stopped what they were doing and was watching the Captain, the man who always stood tall and lead them through the most dangerous missions fearlessly, looking very small suddenly and very, very human. 

“Lt. Uhura, please call Dr. McCoy to the bridge, the Captain needs medical assistance immediately.”

“Spock...” Jim pleaded quietly, breathlessly through the sudden insurmountable pain burning through his head and down into his face and shoulders. Every part of him burned like he'd been doused in acid, every part save the small place where Spock was touching him. He tried to focus on that spot, on Spock's soft touch. “Not here, please. The crew.” 

“If you are suggesting that I walk you to medbay, I would advise against that. You do not seem able to walk safely at the moment and it may look worse to have you walking assisted by myself through the ship. I suggest, Captain, that we remain here where only the smallest number of crew are at hand, and allow Dr. McCoy to assess the situation without further aggravating your...condition.”

“It's a headache, Spock. Not a condition.”

“I've known you many years, Jim, through many injuries and ailments, and I've never seen a headache derail your ability to lead the ship before.” 

“It's a...bad...headache.” 

“We will let the Doctor make the diagnosis, Captain.” 

It felt like forever before Dr. McCoy made his way through the door to the bridge, grumbling under his breath about how it was always Jim and always an emergency. 

“What sort of mess have you gotten yourself into now, Jim?” Bones asked, forgetting his propriety or leaving it out purposely. Jim winced at the words, slumping a bit further into his chair. The burning pain was shooting through him now, setting all of his nerves aflame and he twisted in agony in his chair. Bones looked alarmed for a moment, then glanced at Spock. “He needs to be in sickbay now, I can't treat him here Spock.” 

“Understood. What can I do?”

“Jim, I know you don't want it, but...” and before he finished his sentence, the hypospray was at the Captain's neck. Jim heard the familiar, awful sound of the decompression in the spray, and waited for the numbing sensation but it never came. He pleaded at Bones with his eyes, unable to speak now for the pain, and Bones let another dose loose on him. Without knowing it, he began to fight back against the hypospray, thrashing around, trying to swipe the injector from his friend's hands. It was just making his head spin but it did nothing for the pain. Spock, with a look that could be equated to terror in Vulcan, grabbed at Jim and pulled him close to his body, placing his forehead against the Captain's. It was, he knew, highly improper and violating, but it was the logical move – none of the doctor's medications were working and something needed to happen quickly. All at once, the searing pain was shared between them, and he pulled it his direction, pulled at it with all his will that he might take it all, until he felt his friend go limp in his arms. Once Jim appeared to be unconscious, Spock released his tight grip on his friend and helped Bones lay him on the stretcher that had been brought for transport. He kept one hand gently rested against Jim's cheek, not wanting to break the pain bond until they were safely back in sickbay. 

“I don't know what the hell you just did...” Bones muttered as he and Spock hurried the Captain through the hallway of the ship, a blanket pulled up just enough over the Captain's face that it was obscured from sight. They both knew it would do nothing, word of what had happened was going to spread like wildfire, but it might just stop people from inquiring right now at least. 

“It was highly improper, Doctor, and the Captain may wish to punish me later for such an act of violation. I saw no alternative, however, and stand by my actions.” 

Bones arched an eyebrow and looked at Spock incredulously. “Violation?”

“I entered his mind without his permission, Doctor. I took his pain from him against his will. My will overpowered his, and his pain now resides in my mind, where it can do no harm to him. Should I break this bond prematurely, I do not know the consequences. I have never approached another's mind without permission before.” 

“I'm sure he'll find a way to forgive you.”

Bones immediately began hooking the Captain up to monitors and other gadgets that Spock didn't concern himself with. He was focused entirely on his Captain, lying asleep on the bed, his mind open to Spock. 

“Are you still in there, Spock?” the Doctor asked, running the tricorder now to figure out the source of the problem. It found numerous past injuries, but Bones couldn't see anything to trigger this sort of an episode. Even a migraine wouldn't have wreaked this kind of havoc on a body. The tricorder's readings didn't make sense, his friend was in agony and dying from it, but there was nothing Bones could find to fix. 

“I am close, but not inside, no. I am standing guard, to put it plainly.” 

“Have you seen him behaving oddly lately? Has he had more headaches like this? Anything that might help me figure this out?”

“I have gone back through my own memory logs, and can see one possible connection – Jim's time in the neural neutralizer in the penal colony on Tantalus. He appears to have overcome the persuasion of the placed memories, Doctor, but possibly there is lasting neural damage that went unnoticed. He has had multiple headaches since the visit, however nothing of this sort. I could detect his pain, but it hadn't affected his ability to do his job.”

“Well if he'd ever just come and get himself checked out after away missions...” Bones grumbled, moving the tricorder deliberately to try and pick up more subtle neurological issues. “If it is a problem due to the neutralizer, I'm not sure I have anything I can do to fix it...I don't have that sort of equipment on the ship, Spock.”

“Perhaps I could assist,” Spock said suddenly, looking at the Doctor with a dangerous glint in his eye. “If I could find the damaged area, I could possibly fill it...essentially, doctor, his memory was emptied. This procedure is very like the lobotomies on Earth in the 20th century. Barbaric practice.”

“What would you fill it with?” Bones asked, interested but worried. “It seems wrong to fill him with memories of something that didn't happen. No better than the monsters that did this in the first place.”

“Very wrong indeed, Doctor. But I know what memories were altered, I spoke to Dr. Noel after the incident. I cannot give him back the accurate memory, but I can give him one that is close enough and leave him without the searing pain of loss created by this false memory. He knows the memory is false, but he cannot fight the pain associated with the emptiness. Can you keep him sedated long enough that I might find a way to contact Dr. Noel and get as close as possible to the memory? Perhaps if we put the right information there, it will eradicate the emptiness because he will no longer be missing anything...or anyone.”

“I don't know Spock...” Bones mumbled, fiddling with the dials on the sedative. He had no idea if what he was doing was even touching Jim or if it was just Spock's touch. “What if you just...erased that altogether? Dr. Noel is stationed on another starship and the likelihood of ever crossing paths with her again is next to none. I doubt Jim would miss the memory, and I doubt she would care much either.” 

“What would I fill the emptiness with? There will be an entire holiday party nearly devoid of memories for him.”

“He drank too much at the party to begin with, Spock. That's why he's in this mess with Helen in the first place. I'm sure you could figure something out.”

“Fascinating. I will do my best. Do you agree, then, that this is the best course of action? He could have us court marhsalled.” 

“I'll take the chance. He's dying, Spock, the same way Dr. Adams did on Tantalus. The emptiness is overwhelming his system. I don't understand it, but I can see it on the screen. We have to act fast. Replace the memory entirely, and we'll tell him what we did when he wakes up. If he wakes up. Hurry Spock!”

At the Doctor's urging, Spock leaned in close and placed his other hand against Jim's face, their foreheads now touching. He felt himself enter Jim's mind, felt them become one, and he searched out the source of the pain. Bones watched the two men who were so silent – usually Spock cried out when he was melded to someone in pain, but he seemed so peaceful now. And Jim's features, momentarily twisted in pain and then all at once serene. He couldn't understand what was happening, but as he watched Jim's vital signs slowly come back to normal, he knew whatever the Vulcan was doing was working for now. He just hoped it wouldn't upset Jim too much when he woke up. He tried to busy himself around the room, restocking supplies and checking instruments, tried not to stare too much at the two men. It felt wrong - he needed to keep an eye on the vitals, but he felt like he was intruding if he watched them too long. Truthfully, he felt that way anytime he was in a room with the two of them - Jim was his best friend, he knew Jim better than anyone...except Spock. What they shared was on a different level of intimacy, some might suggest there was something romantic there but Bones knew it went deeper even than that. Romance was something Jim didn't take very seriously, but his bond with Spock was something he held in the highest regard, and though Bones loved to poke fun at them, he made sure to tread lightly. Most of the time.

After nearly an hour of contact, Spock gently released himself from the bond and stood straight, arching his back and stretching, his eyes trained on Jim. 

“What the hell did you do in there?” Bones asked, leaning over the Captain's bed, examining his friend's features and checking his vitals in the old fashioned way, more for security than anything else. 

“As I approached the empty space, the source, I was apprehensive Doctor. I did not want to give him a new false memory, so I created a new memory of sorts with him. He was with me the entire time. It will feel almost dreamlike to him, not like a real memory, but it should cause him no harm.” 

Bones huffed a little and shook his head. “I don't understand any of this, but it seems to have helped. His vitals are normal. I'm going to release him from the sedatives, so we should be seeing him come to soon.”

“Doctor,” Spock started, gesturing down toward Jim, whose eyes were now open. Bones gasped. 

“Hey kid,” Bones started, leaning over his friend relieved. “We nearly lost you.”

“So I understand,” Jim began, his voice small but no longer filled with pain. Bones noticed how very childlike Jim looked lying there suddenly. He never seemed scared, even when he should have been terrified, but Bones just wanted to protect him even more because of it. “Thank you.”

“You may wish to hold your thanks until I explain to you what happened.” 

“I already know, Spock. I...remember.” A sly smile spread across the Captain's face, and the other men detected a slight twinkle in his eye. Jim shifted uneasily in the bed, his body sore but better, so much better. 

“I apologize, Captain, for my overreach. It was the only solution we could come up with, and I take full responsibility. If you feel punishment is necessary, I will comply entirely.” 

“Nonsense. I thoroughly enjoyed the Saurian brandy and playing chess with you, friend. I would have preferred not to have the hangover, though, but I can appreciate your attention to detail.”

“Chess huh?” Bones muttered, smiling. “You could have given him any memory in the universe, and instead you sit down and play a game of chess in his head.”

“That's precisely it, Doctor. I did not prefer to give him a memory, so instead we created one. It really happened, every moment of it, though not with our physical bodies.” Spock looked down at his friend, and saw him smile. He nodded in agreement. He, too, had enjoyed it very much, and was glad to have the memory as part of him now too. 

“So...who won?” Bones asked, helping Jim sit up to take a drink of water. Jim lost himself in thought for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together puzzled. 

“You know...I can't recall...” he said, looking up at Spock for the answer. He noticed a small, mischievous twinkle in Spock's eye. 

“The brandy, sir,” Spock replied coolly, and Jim understood all too well. It was generally how his best memories ended – happy, and very very fuzzy.


End file.
